


Blind Devotion

by PurrfecktlySinful



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anal, Dubious Consent, Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Eye Trauma, Grief, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22470775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurrfecktlySinful/pseuds/PurrfecktlySinful
Summary: Papyrus investigates an explosion in Snowdin forest and stumbles across an injured stranger... who looks painfully familiar.
Relationships: Papyrus/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 160





	Blind Devotion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ganzooky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ganzooky/gifts).



> As per usual, thanks to Undertailsoulsex for being the beta on this work. You always do amazing work friend and catch so many things I just don't see. xD;;
> 
> Also. Yes. I'm alive. It's been a hell of a year but ~Despite Everything, It's Still Me~ (=w=)

It was the early hours of the morning when an explosion rocked the forest on the outskirts of Snowdin town.

Papyrus was the first at the scene, prowling with the grace and stealth of a trained predator. Casing the surrounding area, he circled broadly as he approached, watchful for any danger that may still be present. 

Thankfully whoever had caused it didn't have any friends nearby. Keeping his grip tight on the sharpened bone attack in his hand, Papyrus stepped out from between the trees and into a small clearing. 

The first thing that struck him was that despite the intensity of the blast the trees surrounding the space were relatively undamaged, with only a few branches littering the area to show that anything had occurred. 

The next thing that caught Papyrus’s attention was a patch of vivid blue and red, half covered in white powder, in the middle of a large shallow crater in the snow pack. 

No other motion in the area. The only sounds were the rustling of pine needles and the occasional wet schluff of snow falling from some nearby branch. 

Relaxing marginally, Papyrus walked forward, not completely abandoning caution as he approached the figure in the snow. 

“IF YOU ARE PLAYING DEAD, I ASSURE YOU I AM NOT DECEIVED, AS YOU HAVE NOT YET DUSTED.” he called, putting all the authority of the Royal Guard into his voice. There was a long pause. “I AM SURE YOU ARE QUITE AMAZED BY MY INTELLIGENCE AND PROWESS SO NOW WOULD BE THE TIME TO SURRENDER YOURSELF TO MY GREAT AND TERRIBLE MERCY, BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE.”

The form shifted, a bit of powder snow sliding off it and onto the ground. A faint murmur, almost too weak for Papyrus to catch, came from where it lay. 

“…Pa...pap…”

That voice was too familiar. 

No longer caring what the intent of the other creature was, he dropped the bone attack from his numb fingers and surged forward to the figure’s side. Kneeling down next to them, he turned them over to see if his ears had been deceiving him.

His soul churned with confused hope. 

“SANS? SANS IS THAT YOU?”

It had to be. The monster in his arms resembled him… but also not. Where Papyrus expected to see a black leather jacket was a worn and smudged blue hoodie. Where he expected sharpened teeth and the glint of gold was only flat white perfection. The disconnect was surreal, and Papyrus reeled mentally as he tried to process what he was seeing. 

Most alarming of all was the twin trails of wet, blue magic that had seeped out of the other monster’s eyes and was now trickling down his cheeks. 

The other monster shifted in Papyrus’s hold, his head moving to and fro as though seeking out whoever was holding him, yet unable to find him. After a moment he gave up, staring upwards with unseeing, blank eyes. 

“P-pap? Papyrus… is that you?” The voice was smoother than the one in his memory, somehow untouched by the malice and spite that had filled their everyday lives… and yet it was still the same voice. The small skeleton reached up with a trembling hand, searching for the face his eyes couldn’t see. Instinctively Papyrus caught the hand in his own, keeping him from touching his face.

“I…” Papyrus swallowed hard, trying to contain the emotion, his soul wavering between belief and denial. “SANS?”

“heh.” The skeleton gave a wavering smile. “who else would it be, Pap? don’t you know your bro when you see him?” 

Papyrus felt like the ground had fallen away from under him. What the fuck was going on? 

He jumped at the soft crunch of snow. Someone else stepped into the clearing. Papyrus dropped the other monster and whirled around, crouched on one knee with his bone attack summoned once more. His red eye lights burned with murderous intensity, radiating his full intent to do battle with whomever had intruded into his territory. If they intended any harm he would be more than willing to show them the error of their ways. 

However, he only met the fierce yet loyal gaze of Greater Dog. The armored monster whined at him inquiringly, cocking his head to one side as his gaze flicked from Papyrus to the figure lying in the snow behind him. 

Papyrus breathed out slowly as he once more dissolved his bone attack. 

Gathering his authority around him like a familiar cloak, he gave Greater Dog a piercing glare. 

“IS THE REST OF THE AREA SECURE?” he snapped.

The dog monster straightened and saluted, giving a sharp yip of assent. 

“ACCEPTABLE.” Papyrus’ gaze raked across Greater Dog, considering his options carefully. The canine gave a slight, hopeful wag of his tail. “GATHER THE REST OF THE DOGS AND TAKE THE REST OF THE EVENING OFF. I…” He glanced behind him for a brief moment before returning his attention to the dog monster. “SHALL SEE TO THIS PRISONER. TELL NO ONE WHAT YOU HAVE SEEN HERE. AM I CLEAR?”

Looking Excited by the prospect of a night of booze and card games with the rest of the pack at Grillby’s, Greater Dog gave another excited yap before bounding away toward Snowdin, kicking up white puffs of snow behind him. So much for protocol. 

Giving a sigh of relief, Papyrus returned his attention to the issue at hand, counting on Greater Dog’s loyalty, lack of focus, or both to keep things secret a short while longer. At least long enough for him to figure out exactly what the hell was going on and get it sorted out before all hell broke loose.  
_  
(”what the fuck, Boss? how come the mutts listen to you and not to me?”_

_“BECAUSE THEY CAN SENSE MY NOBLE PURPOSE AND THE AUTHORITY IN MY BEARING!”_

_“heh. of course. i guess that’s why you’re the boss, Boss.”)_

The sharp ache in his soul lingered as the memory faded, leaving echoes behind even as Papyrus turned and picked up the stranger. He cradled him in his arms, and the small body settled against him like it belonged there. Sometime during Papyrus’s conversation with Greater Dog, the monster had passed out, though his sockets continued to leak magic in a slow trickle. Papyrus peered down at him, concern and conflict warring within his soul. 

Well, best to leave that business for when he got home. 

Schooling his face into its usual facade of malicious determination, Papyrus stalked with purpose towards home, carrying the slight monster in his arms with the greatest of care. As he passed through Snowdin, the packed snow crunching sharply beneath his feet, he noticed with satisfaction that other monsters scrambled to clear the path before him. The last thing he wanted was prying eyes or questions. 

When he arrived home, he paused, unsure of whether to bring the monster inside the main house or to lock him in the shed. After all, wasn’t it only procedure to imprison, torture, and interrogate an intruder?

However, when he looked down at the monster in his arms, their face lax in sleep, magic still leaking from their injured eye sockets, Papyrus balked. A brief image of his own brother -- injured, condemned to some cold prison, and left, scared and alone without him -- slid across Papyrus’s mind like a knife, leaving fresh, sharp pain behind it. Fuck procedure. This was his charge and he was going to do things however the hell he saw fit. 

They really did look very alike. Another vague memory tugged at the corners of his mind, hinted at an explanation for this strangeness. Though he couldn’t grasp it completely, a small, unshakable certainty began to form.

“IT WOULD NOT DO TO HAVE A PRISONER DIE OF HIS INJURIES ON MY WATCH…” Papyrus murmured. The justification sounded hollow and weak, even to him.

After bringing the monster in and kicking the door shut behind him, Papyrus settled him on the worn couch in the living room. Stepping back, he cast a critical eye up and down the figure laying there, quickly and efficiently assessing his condition. Wet, filthy clothing that clung in some places and dripped in others, bits of snow clinging here and there, face pale, marked with the shadows of strain and exhaustion… and his EYES. What the fuck had happened to his eyes!?

Finally, his gaze drifted down to the monster’s right hand, the one that hadn’t reached out to him. It was stuffed securely into his pocket, a bit of red fabric poking out and around his wrist.

Papyrus stared at that bit of red for a long time, a hollow feeling growing within him. 

The soft sound of rattling bones pulled him from his thoughts. His guest was shivering, the noise coming from his entire body as it shook with chill. 

Well, this was certainly an unacceptable state of affairs.

Filled with new resolve, Papyrus marched around the house purposefully. Towels, blanket, bandages, hot water bottle—He piled it all into a lopsided laundry basket and marched upstairs. He came to a stop in front of a plain door at the far end of the hall, his hand on the doorknob. It took a moment to regain control of emotions that were suddenly threatening to pull him under. His chest felt tight and there was a familiar prickling at the corners of his eye sockets. 

“IT’S JUST A FUCKING ROOM,” he muttered to himself. 

Taking a deep breath and swallowing the lump in his throat, Papyrus turned the knob and pushed inside. He stomped across the room, refusing to glance at the worn mattress leaning against the wall and the pile of folded, stained blankets next to it, refusing to acknowledge the stale air of a room that hadn’t been opened in months. Once he reached the far corner of the room, he reached into a hamper and fished out the first clean shirt and shorts he found. Task accomplished, he turned and marched out, pulling the door closed firmly behind him.

After heading back downstairs, Papyrus put the basket down and knelt next to the stranger. Methodically he began peeling wet clothes off the small body, careful to move him gently as he removed first the hoodie, then the white shirt beneath it. He moved with precision, trying not to focus too much on the bare bones now revealed to him. But, other than the wound on the stranger’s face, he couldn’t help but notice how white and unmarked they were. No scars, no chips or hairline cracks, not even the faint yellowing from nicotine use. The only strange feature was something that Papyrus could only call a shadow… a stripe of barely darkened bone that ran like a gash, slantwise across his chest. When Papyrus ran his fingers across it he could feel a faint, almost undetectable dip, as though the bone were slowly wearing down along the mark. 

It really was strange. He looked so weak and vulnerable.

In so many ways this monster was nothing like HIM.

He most certainly did NOT flush when he stripped the pants off of the other monster, revealing an equally pristine pelvis. Tossing the damp shorts onto the growing pile of messy clothing on the floor beside him, he grabbed a towel and began to use soft pressure to dry the injured skeleton off.

Despite his efforts to maintain some modicum of distance, Papyrus had to stamp down the magic that threatened to flare up and heat his bones. He firmly reminded himself that he had other things to occupy his attention than his errant libido. Such thoughts were highly inappropriate, thank you very much, and he threatened himself with a cold shower in retaliation against his body’s rebellion. 

Pleased that the monster’s shivering lessened as he worked, and relieved when he finished and re-dressed his prisoner in fresh, dry clothes. They were almost an exact fit, being only slightly larger than the body they were draped on. 

Now that the other monster was wearing familiar clothing, the resemblance was startling in such a soul-jarring way that Papyrus almost choked on a shard of renewed grief.

It was fortunate he could not stop to think too hard.

With careful dabs and swipes with a clean wet cloth, Papyrus cleaned up the stranger’s face, clearing away the leaked magic that streaked his cheeks. On closer examination, he could see where the bone was notched at the outer corner of each eye socket. There was also a deep gouge across the bridge of his nose, like some kind of blade had been used to slash him across the eyes. When Papyrus tried to push what little healing magic he could into the wound, it resisted, rebuffing him with a strong malicious intent that alarmed him with its intensity. With a grunt of discontent, Papyrus finally gave up and wrapped his prisoner’s eyes with a torn length of clean fabric from the rag bin.

Finally finished, Papyrus sat back and surveyed his work. 

The stranger was certainly more comfortable, no longer trembling like a cornered Whimsun, ribs rising and falling in the slow, steady rhythm of deep sleep. Papyrus watched the monster turn over and burrow into the tatty cushions as if he belonged there, and could swear he even heard a tiny sigh of contentment before the stranger began to snore. 

Giving an exasperated huff(why the fuck was he bothering so much over one injured intruder?), Papyrus pulled a blanket up over the sleeping monster, tucking it carefully around him. He couldn’t have his charge getting sicker, or worse, dusting before he could interrogate him, after all. 

He stared at the sleeping monster for some time, an indescribable turbulence of emotion churning within him. 

“FUCKING HELL,” he grated under his breath before going to get a chair from the kitchen and pulling it up next to the couch.

After all, the least he could do was stand guard. 

**********  
_  
(”hey, Boss.”_

_“WHAT IS IT, SANS? I AM TRYING TO SLEEP.”_

_“what if i told you that our world wasn’t the only one out there?”_

_“WHAT IS THE POINT OF THINKING ABOUT SUCH FOOLISHNESS? THIS IS THE ONLY WORLD WE HAVE TO LIVE IN. MIGHT AS WELL MAKE THE BEST OF WHAT WE HAVE.”_

_“no. i mean it’s something that science can prove! hundreds, no millions of different versions of Snowdin… of US… somewhere out in the void of existence.”_

_“IS THIS MORE OF YOUR SCIENCE-Y MUMBO-JUMBO? I NEVER KNOW WHAT TO MAKE OF IT.”_

_“yeah. you’re better at building shit and keeping our asses from being dusted.”_

_“I THINK IT IS MUCH MORE PRACTICAL THAN ANYTHING SCIENCE HAS DONE FOR US.”_

_“heh. you’ve got a point. really though… just humor me. what if… somewhere out there… there exists a version of us that never had to go through all this bullshit. never had to fight through every fucking breath of every fucking day just to scratch by?”_

_“THEN THEY WOULD BE TERRIBLY WEAK AND EASY EXP FOR ANY PASSING MONSTER.”_

_“but what if exp wasn’t the point? what if the whole point was just… to be happy?”_

_“TO BE… SANS WHAT THE FUCK HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU?”_

_“maybe… a world where i wasn’t a garbage brother.”_

_“…”_

_“Boss, you’re gonna squeeze me to death.”_

_“SHUT THE FUCK UP, SANS, AND GO TO SLEEP.”_

_“…yeah. sure, Boss.”)  
_  
Papyrus woke with a start, his head jerking out of his palm as he sat up straight. He blinked in confusion for a few moments. Why the FUCK was he sleeping in a chair like a heathen when he had a perfectly good bed upstairs?

The sound of shifting blankets, followed by a low snore was a sudden, painful reminder. His eyes snapped to the skeleton now on his couch, his expression becoming grim and thoughtful. It appeared as though the monster hadn’t moved much, still sleeping deeply right where Papyrus had left him. 

(Still safe, his soul whispered, traitorous.)

With an almost soundless growl, Papyrus stood, feeling the sudden urge to occupy himself with something before his mind drove him up the nearest wall. He caught sight of the rumpled pile of dirty clothing next to the couch. Yes. That would do nicely. Bending over, he wrapped his arms around the bundle of fabric, lifted it and marched to the laundry room. 

As he sorted through the mess of garments, he came across the worn blue hoodie, still heavy with damp from melted snow. There was still a bit of red cloth peeking from one of the pockets. Curious, he pulled it out. He realized what it was as he drew it from the hoodie’s pocket like it was some morbid sleight of hand trick, the thing sliding out inch by dreaded inch for what seemed like an eternity. At last Papyrus was holding it in his hand, staring at it with an ache in his soul that most certainly not fear. 

A red scarf, covered in a thin film of dust. 

His other hand went to the scarf at his own neck. A bit more worn, a shade darker red, maybe, but otherwise…

“P-Papyrus?” 

He jumped at the familiar voice calling his name, barely stifling the cry that threatened to leap from his throat. His soul thrummed in a frantic way he didn’t recall happening since he’d had to dust his first monster, and he could see the faint tremble in his hands as he dropped the dusty scarf like it had burned him.

“…Pap? Pap!?” The deep, resonant voice calling from the other room raised in pitch and cracked with obvious anxiety. 

Seemed like his guest had finally woken up. 

Papyrus stomped back out into the living room, the litany of questions already thundering through his skull.

WHO ARE YOU? 

WHAT IS YOUR PURPOSE HERE?

WHO ARE YOUR ALLIES AND WHERE ARE THEY HIDING?

All of them died in his throat when he saw the other monster sitting up on the couch, his body turning to and fro, an alarmed expression creasing his features. Seeing that fearful, panicked expression on such a familiar monster was jarring to say the least.

And really, hadn’t he seen enough evidence for him to know the truth by now?

A Sans from another world. Some twisted, distant shadow of his brother, here to torture him with the past. Well this was perfectly fucked up, wasn’t it? 

The familiar face swiveled toward him so that it was facing the sound of his footsteps. 

“Papyrus? is that you?”

At a loss for words, Papyrus’ mouth opened and closed a few times as he searched for a response. He finally settled on the familiar, clinging to it like a lifeboat in a storm. 

“YES, OF COURSE IT IS I, THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS!” he blustered. He almost posed dramatically to prove his point, till he remembered the other monster couldn’t see him. 

He could see the relief in Sans’ features as his body visibly relaxed. 

“oh, thank the stars,” he murmured, a faint smile appearing, turning up the corners of his mouth. “i’m so glad you’re okay.”

“…SANS?” Papyrus ventured, taking a tentative step forward. 

“yeah?” Sans responded, his head tilting to one side. 

There was a long silence as Papyrus tried to process… anything really. It was all starting to feel like a bit too much at once. 

“you ok, bro? i, ah, would come over there but I have this thing on my face.” His voice wavered as he spoke. One of his hands came up and brushed over the cloth covering his eyes, now showing hints of blue magic seeping through the fabric.

Gathering his courage, Papyrus approached the couch and sat down in the chair he had pulled up earlier. He had a feeling that sitting down for this would be a good idea.

“YOU WERE IN THE FOREST. THAT IS WHERE I FOUND YOU,” he stated simply, trying to keep from wringing his hands. It was an old habit that he thought he had rid himself of long ago, but apparently stress had a way of bringing back old tics. 

“the… forest?” Sans’ brow furrowed. “what was i doing there?”

“I DO NOT KNOW. YOU WERE INJURED WHEN I FOUND YOU.”

“…injured? is that why…?” Sans’ voice trailed off as his hand went up to the cloth around his eyes. 

“DO NOT…” Papyrus began to command, but it was too late. Sans found the end of the makeshift bandage and freed it. The strip of blue-stained cloth unraveled, falling in one long, loose coil down onto his shoulders.

“Pap… i… i can’t see.” The statement was simple, Sans’ voice flat and emotionless, but Papyrus could read (fuck, they really were so similar) the subtle tension in the other monster’s shoulders as his head turned toward him. Sans was scared shitless. His dark sockets, devoid of eye lights were deeply unsettling as they gazed at him, void-black and unseeing. Papyrus grimaced.

“IT LOOKS LIKE YOU WERE SLASHED ACROSS THE FACE BY SOME BLADE. WHAT HAPPENED? WHO DID THIS TO YOU?” Papyrus demanded.

“i…” Sans’ face creased in thought. Papyrus watched his subtle body language grow more obvious as he stiffened, his hands gripping the blanket pooled in his lap. The sound of bones rattling filled the room as he began to shake again. 

Papyrus immediately leaned closer to him, alarmed. Reaching out, he grabbed Sans’ shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. 

“SANS? SANS, WHAT IS GOING ON? ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

The touch seemed to bring him out of it. Taking a few deep, shaky breaths, Sans turned back toward Papyrus and gave him a tremulous smile. It was not convincing.

“uh. yeah, bro. i… was just remembering a bad dream.” Sans put his hand over Papyrus’ hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze of his own. Papyrus blinked at the open gesture of affection, surprised. “sorry to worry you.” 

Papyrus cleared his throat.

“SO DO YOU REMEMBER WHO DID THIS TO YOU THEN?” he repeated, choosing to ignore the warmth he felt in his soul from that touch. 

Sans moved his hand back into his lap, turning his face downward. 

“it’s, ah, real fuzzy, Pap. i don’t really remember what happened. sorry.”

He was lying. Papyrus immediately recognized the same cagey bullshit his own brother had used on him time and again. He also knew that once his brother got like this, he was shit out of luck as far as getting a reasonable explanation of what happened. Which meant that…

“YES. WELL. OF COURSE.” Papyrus released Sans’ shoulder, unable to keep the chill from his voice. “OF COURSE YOU DON’T.”

Sans’ expression changed to confusion and puzzlement. Apparently he was not used to such a response from his own brother. Well that was fine. Papyrus was no more this Sans’ brother than this Sans was his. The sooner he learned that the better. 

“Papyrus… are you ok?”

The genuine concern in that question, again, so unlike his own brother, opened old, painful wounds in his soul.

(”what the fuck are you doing, Papyrus?” 

“I JUST WANTED A HUG.”

“are you tryin’ ta get us killed? you might be just outta stripes, but you can’t do that shit out here where people can see. knock it the fuck off.”)

“IT’S… NOTHING. EXCUSE ME PLEASE.”

Papyrus left the room, escaping to the silence of the laundry room, and closed the door behind him with a firm click. His sharpened fingertips dug into the wood of the door, searching for something to ground him. He focused on breathing in and out, slow and steady as the world tried to tip and spin around him. It was too much. He couldn’t handle this.  
_  
(”hey bro, it’s ok. remember, you gotta breathe when you get like this.”_

_“I AM SORRY, SANS. I CANNOT… I’M SORRY.”_

_A gentle hand found his back in the dark, rubbing soothing circles._

_“shhh. it’s fine. i got’cha. just breathe, Pap.”)_

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there before the world steadied around him and his soul stopped racing. Ignoring the wetness on his cheekbones, he focused on getting the rest of the laundry into the washer, taking that time to compose himself into something resembling a capable monster. Once more he lingered when he picked up the red scarf, a stark reminder that he wasn’t the only person to experience loss, before gently setting it aside. After taking a moment to wash his face in the utility sink, he squared his shoulders and marched back out into the living room. 

It was only right of him to inform his guest fully of the situation so that they could brainstorm their best course of action. 

“gah!” 

The soft gasp of pain came from the couch, where Sans was now hunched over his lap, his hands clapped over his skull, face contorted in pain. 

Papyrus rushed to his side. Kneeling down, he pulled Sans toward him, inspecting him to find out what was wrong.

“SANS! WHAT HAPPENED?”

“shit, that hurt.” Sans pulled shaking hands away from his skull to turn his head up to Papyrus. Papyrus could see fresh tracks of blue magic trailing down Sans’ cheeks. “i… thought maybe i could make my eye lights manifest… that didn’t end well.”

“I CAN SEE THAT. WELL, DO NOT DO THAT AGAIN,” Papyrus said, frowning down at him. “WE NEED TO CLEAN YOU UP AND PUT THE BANDAGE BACK ON.”

“no. wait. could you… ya know… stay for just a sec?” Sans reached up and took a handful of Papyrus’ scarf in his hand, turning slightly to lean against him. “your hugs have always been the best cure, Pap.”

Papyrus froze, uncertain, his arms hovering around the monster leaning into him, his brain making noises at him not entirely unlike one of Alphys’ machines when it malfunctioned.

Despite all his instincts screaming otherwise, Papyrus slowly untensed, allowing his arms to drop till they were wrapped around Sans in a loose hug. 

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

DON’T LET YOUR GUARD DOWN.

YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW THIS MONSTER.

HE STILL THINKS YOU’RE HIS BROTHER.

And yet Papyrus couldn’t help but indulge in this unaccustomed warmth, a privilege rarely allowed by his own brother, who limited any intimacy, brotherly or otherwise, to the bedroom. 

Now there was a thought with some bad timing. 

Papyrus felt himself flush, his body growing warm as unwelcome desires pulled at his soul. Sans sighed in his arms, and Papyrus stared at him, relaxed and content with his face pressed against Papyrus’ chest. 

His soul swelled with the desire to protect this monster who looked so like his brother, even as he also wondered how he was going to wash the magic stains out of his shirt.

“UMMM… SANS?” he finally ventured, feeling more awkward the longer this impromptu embrace lasted. 

“yeah, bro?”

Now was the time to tell him. He needed to let this Sans know that he wasn’t the Papyrus he thought he was. 

But that would mean…

Papyrus recalled the dusty scarf, so like his own, and yet not. He would have to explain the scarf to this Sans… and then what?

How would he react to the news that his brother was likely…

Swallowing hard around the lump in his throat, Papyrus opened his mouth to say something, and realized even as the words came out that he couldn’t bring himself to tell Sans the truth. 

“WE… WE REALLY SHOULD BANDAGE YOUR EYES,” was all he managed, gently taking Sans by the shoulders and pushing him back. “IT WOULDN’T DO IF THEY GOT WORSE.” 

“ok, Pap, sure.” Papyrus didn’t miss the disappointment in Sans’ voice as he sat back on the couch. 

Papyrus worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning the streaks of half dried magic from Sans’ face. Then, taking Sans’ chin in hand, he tilted his head this way and that, frowning menacingly at the injuries as though simply glaring at them would make them go away. After a few moments of this, Sans mouth crooked up in a teasing smile. 

“yeah, yeah. i know. i’m a handsome devil, aren’t i?” 

Sputtering, Papyrus flushed hot and dropped Sans’ chin, his hands fluttering for a moment before he resolutely forced them back down into his lap. Sans’ low, resonant chuckling filled the room, a distinct difference from his brother’s bellowing guffaws. What made it worse was the fact that Sans’ words had reflected exactly the kind of thing his brother would have said. Papyrus wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that, so he merely fell back on the familiar, crossing his arms and giving an exasperated huff. 

“WELL YOU MUST NOT BE FEELING ALL THAT BADLY IF YOU CAN FOOL AROUND LIKE THAT.” His words were flat, his voice gravelly, the usual stern facade he used when he and his brother bickered. 

A flash of confusion crossed Sans’ face, quickly masked by a disarming grin. 

“aw. don’t sulk, Pap.” He reached out, seeking blindly till his hand found Papyrus’ knee. Once there he rubbed gentle circles in the bone, an expression of comfort that also felt somehow intimate. Papyrus’ soul fluttered. “i’m sorry if i worried you. it wasn’t fair of me tryin’ to flirt in a situation like this.”

Flirt? Did that mean… he and his brother also...? 

It didn’t matter. He was already too invested in this strange facsimile of his brother who had apparently dropped out of the sky and into his life. The smartest thing to do here would be to help him heal, tell him the truth of his situation, and figure out how to get him back to wherever the hell he had come from. 

“IT IS NOTHING. DO NOT BOTHER YOURSELF ABOUT IT. EXCUSE ME, I WILL GO AND PREPARE DINNER FOR US BOTH.”

The rest of the evening went about as well as could be imagined. Papyrus served the healthiest of meals, lasagna, to his guest. There was a moment of hesitation, as though Sans expected to be given something else entirely, before he dove in with gusto, devouring the food in front of him while laying effusive compliments at Papyrus’ feet. Unused to the flattery, Papyrus couldn’t help but preen at Sans’ glowing words, even as his heart ached. 

Another similarity. Another difference.  
_  
(”lasagna again!? holy hell, Boss, can’t you widen your repertoire or something?”_

_“LASAGNA IS A PERFECTLY NUTRITIOUS MEAL, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. NOW EAT YOUR DINNER OR YOU’LL HAVE ONLY DOG FOOD FOR THE NEXT MONTH.”_

_“heheh. you’re the boss, Boss.”)  
_  
Despite his acerbic words, though, his brother had always eaten with an enthusiasm that betrayed how he truly felt, wolfing down the drippy, cheesy pasta as though it were going out of style. All the while he would listen to Papyrus as he ranted or complained or lamented about the day’s events, only looking up to grunt assent or give Papyrus a sauce-smeared grin.

“hey, Papyrus? you alright?”

Papyrus started, pulled back to the present by Sans’ worried voice. He blinked owlishly at him before he could reply.

“OH. YES. I’M FINE. I AM JUST… TIRED. IT HAS BEEN A LONG DAY AND IT IS QUITE LATE. I AM GOING TO BED.”

“oh. ok. then here, let me…” 

With a shuffle and a lurch, Sans tried to swing his feet out to get up and instead nearly fell headlong onto the floor. He was only narrowly saved by Papyrus’ quick reflexes, caught as the smaller monster lost his balance and pitched forward.

“DAMMIT, SANS, WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT?” he snapped, pulling back a bit to glare at him. Instead of remorse, he was met with Sans’ blind, bandaged stare. 

“Pap… you never swear.” 

The words were low and quiet, but they pierced Papyrus deeply, another reminder that this monster was not the same as his twin.

Papyrus froze, stricken. Before he could collect himself to respond, Sans had lifted his hands to touch him, one on each side of his face. Hesitant fingers grazed along Papyrus’ sharp chin, then lingered briefly over his sharpened teeth. Here Sans’ frown was deep and thoughtful for a moment before his fingers continued to explore, wandering slowly upwards. When he found the deep crack that scored Papyrus face from the top of his left cheekbone, up through his eyesocket, Sans jerked back, his expression a sudden tempest of confusion and consternation. 

It was all Papyrus needed to make his escape.

“IT DOES NOT MATTER. YOU ARE IN NO CONDITION TO MOVE, SO YOU WILL SLEEP HERE TONIGHT.” 

Sans’ response was short as he brought his hands back to his lap, his expression thoughtful.

“yeah. ok.”

Papyrus made sure his guest was reasonably comfortable, pulling up the blanket and leaving a glass of water within reach so he wouldn’t have to get up in the night. The entire time Sans’ expression remained distant. It unnerved him, but Papyrus decided to leave it. He’d had more than he could handle already today, whatever the trouble was could wait till morning. 

Satisfied Sans would be okay for the night, Papyrus headed toward the stairs leading to the second floor. 

“GOODNIGHT, SANS.”

“goodnight, Papyrus. i love you.”

Papyrus stopped, foot poised on the first step up. The sudden wave of grief was so strong he thought his soul might be crushed under its weight, and his throat closed up when he first tried to respond. Taking a few deep breaths, and after clearing his throat, he finally answered, low and hoarse, almost a whisper. 

“YOU TOO, SANS. SEE YOU IN THE MORNING.”

******************

He woke in the night to the sound of a thump from downstairs. 

Papyrus’ eyes shot open, staring at the dim ceiling above him as he strained his hearing.

Silence. 

Had he imagined it?

Still muzzy from sleep, Papyrus turned over, reaching over beside him to find…

Nothing.

Oh. Right.

The lurch in his soul was not unlike missing a stair in the dark, a lightheaded, falling sensation that came with expecting something to be there that wasn’t.

There was nothing left. Not the faint warmth of another monster on the sheets, no faint scent of mustard and cigarette smoke, not even the hum of familiar magic. 

Gone. Forever. 

The bed never used to feel so big before. So empty. Papyrus drew the covers up around him, cocooning himself and burying his face in the blankets, resolute in his efforts to clear his mind and go the fuck back to sleep. He didn’t have time for this… this weakness or the inevitable pain that came with it. 

A clatter on the stairs. 

Now that WASN’T his imagination.

Papyrus sat up like a shot, flinging the covers off of him, his head whipping towards the door, alert and ready. 

An intruder? Or could it be Sans? But Sans could barely move! If it was an intruder, did they miss him on the couch? He was a rather short monster, practically buried under the bundle of blankets on the sofa. Maybe they hadn’t seen him? Or maybe he had already been…

Another sound, further up the stairs now.

Fear galvanized Papyrus and he was on his feet, a sharpened bone summoned and already in his palm, radiating killing intent with his magic. If they had so much as SCRATCHED his guest he would pull them apart bit by bit and feed them the fucking pieces as they screamed for mercy. 

Striding over to his door, he flung it open, hoping to surprise the deviants with his appearance. 

“NYEH HEH HEH! HOW DARE YOU INVADE THE HOME OF THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS. STOP RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE BEFORE I DUST YOU WHERE YOU STAND, YOU WORMS!”

The door rebounded off the wall with a resounding crack and a short figure at the top of the stairs gave a terrified yelp before crumpling to the ground in a shivering heap. The faint silver moonlight leaking in through one of the windows, combined with crimson glow of Papyrus’ magic cast faint, dancing illumination on the monster in front of him. 

“SANS!?” Immediately Papyrus was kneeling at his side, hovering, concerned as he tried to decide what to do next. His concern faded to anger as he realized that not only was Sans uninjured (well, more than he was already), but there was no intruder to be concerned about in the first place. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP HERE?” 

Not even acknowledging the question, Sans reached out and grasped Papyrus by the wrist. The anger within him fizzled and died as Papyrus realized that Sans was shaking badly, his breathing short and shallow. He was gripping Papyrus almost hard enough to hurt, so obviously terrified that Papyrus wondered if he had even processed half of what he had said.

“SANS?” Papyrus recognized a panic attack when he saw one. On instinct, he reached out and laid his hand on Sans’ shoulder. “SANS. LOOK AT ME.” 

Papyrus winced as Sans’ face turned upwards to him, the bandages around his skull a grim reminder of his verbal slip. At some point they had become loose, drooping on his skull, barely kept up by the bridge of Sans’ nose.

“YOU ARE OK. I AM HERE. THERE IS NO DANGER. BREATHE,” he instructed, keeping his voice calm, trying to radiate all the confidence he didn’t feel right now. Sans took a shuddering breath in response, trying to slow his panicked rate of breathing. “GOOD, KEEP IT UP. BREATHE IN… BREATHE OUT.”

It was some time before Sans composed himself, Papyrus waiting patiently by his side and coaching him through it, trying not to think of all the times he had done this for his own brother after a particularly close shave, or when he would wake screaming in the night from some amorphous nightmare he would never explain.

Sans took a few more shuddering breaths before he spoke. 

“heh. sorry, Pap. i, uh, kinda lost it there. i was a real bonehead. sorry you had to see that.”

“DON’T BE SILLY. IT WAS NOTHING,” Papyrus said, merely relieved that Sans seemed to be doing better. He even ignored the pun. To distract himself from his still thumping soul, he adjusted the wrapping around Sans’ skull, making it snug again. “WHAT WAS THAT THUMP DOWNSTAIRS?”

Sans blushed at the question, a light dusting of blue that was quickly hidden as he turned his head down and to the side. 

“i… had a bad dream and fell off the couch.”

“AH. WHAT WAS IT ABOUT?”

Papyrus immediately wondered if he had made a mistake because Sans’ whole body became tense at the question, his hand once more reaching out to grip Papyrus by the wrist. After a few tense moments, however, Sans spoke. 

“i went out looking for you. i looked everywhere… by your puzzles, the bridge you painted, the gate you built. but you weren’t anywhere. when i finally found you, you were…” His voice cracked, and he curled in on himself. “it was so real, Papyrus.”

Papyrus immediately thought of the dusty scarf, and his soul twisted with empathy for Sans. He really shouldn’t let him continue to believe his brother was okay when he obviously wasn’t, but he also didn’t want to put the other monster through even more pain. So what else could he do? 

He gave Sans’ shoulder another squeeze.

“DO NOT WORRY, SANS. AS YOU CAN SEE, I AM RIGHT HERE.” Squaring his shoulders, he put all the bravado he could muster into his next statement. “AFTER ALL, WHO COULD EVER DEFEAT PAPYRUS, THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE?”

Sans chuckled, the sound of it starting soft and growing stronger. 

“heh. you’re right bro. not sure where you picked up the ‘terrible’ though. i think you’re pretty awesome, myself.” He shifted closer to Papyrus, leaning against him. Papyrus felt himself warm at the contact, his face and soul burning with embarrassment at the blatant praise and open affection. 

“IT… IT IS TO STRIKE FEAR INTO THE HEARTS OF MY ENEMIES.” 

“can’t argue with that, i guess.” Sans toyed with the fabric of Papyrus’ night shirt for a few more moments. “hey, Pap?”

“YES, SANS?” 

“can i… sleep with you tonight?”

This was dangerous. Somehow, despite all the indications to the contrary, Sans still thought Papyrus was his brother. The thought of sharing a bed with him dredged up all sorts of confused feelings that Papyrus wasn’t sure he’d be able to contend with right now. 

The hand fiddling with his shirt clenched, clutching the fabric tight with sudden emotion. 

“please. i don’t think i can sleep alone.”

The request was so earnest, so obviously desperate, that Papyrus couldn’t in good conscience turn him down. 

“OK. BUT DON’T GET USED TO IT.” 

“thank you.”

Placing one hand behind Sans’ back and scooping the other beneath his knees, Papyrus easily lifted him as he stood (like hell he was going to have Sans stumble around the house, blind and injured). One of Sans’ hands snaked under his arm and around to his back, helping Papyrus to keep him steady, the other still coiled in Papyrus’ shirt. Turning, Papyrus entered his room, hooking one foot on the edge of the door just long enough to pull it closed behind them.

“Pap?”

With confidence, Papryus navigated the short distance to his bed through the dim lighting, led by only the faint glow of false moonlight shining through his window. He paused by the bedside. 

“YES, SANS?” 

“i… uh… can we…” There was a shy hesitance in Sans’ voice that sent a shiver up Papyrus’ spine. He considered him, wondering what he could possibly want. The faint blush on his cheekbones was captivating, and Papyrus could still feel the slight pressure of his hand against his back, trailing idly along his ribs in a way that was beginning to drive him nuts. “please, Papyrus. i want you…” 

Oh. OH. 

Oh, STARS. 

Trying to ignore the quickening of his soul and the flare of his magic, Papyrus stuttered as he searched for a response. 

“I… AH…” He needed a moment, some fresh air… Something. If he could just step out of the room for a moment and catch his breath. This wouldn’t be right, no matter how much he sounded and felt and even smelled like… “WE… NOT WHILE… NOT WHILE YOU’RE INJURED, SANS.” 

He was fierce. A proud and powerful monster who could have anything and anyone he wanted if he just pursued it. However, just because taking as one pleased was the WORLD’S norm didn’t make it his.

Leaning over, Papyrus set Sans down on the mattress and began to pull away. He felt a brief surge of relief as Sans let go of his shirt, believing his refusal had been taken at face value. 

Until that hand reached up, curling around the back of his neck and pulling him down with a strength Papyrus didn’t know Sans still had in him. Craning his neck up, Sans ran his tongue along the line of Papyrus’ jaw… slow, teasing. Papyrus gasped as he felt a jolt of arousal settle in his pelvis, filling his already tight sleeping shorts with his tumultuous magic.  
_  
(A memory… questing hands in the night, heat and sweat and fervent pleasure chased to its inevitable conclusion, a brief space of intimacy and comfort in a world determined to grind them to dust. The echo of a plea whispered in his ear, low and desperate in the dark._

 _“Papyrus… fuck me, please.”)_  
“Papyrus… fuck me, please.”

The last shreds of his restraint torn away by Sans’ words, unable to resist, Papyrus tilted his skull down and met Sans’ mouth with his own, their tongues twining around each other in a wet heat that had Papyrus growling low in his chest. 

Stars, he needed this so bad. 

He pulled back, feeling the huff of warm breath from Sans as their mouths parted and he looked down at the other skeleton. Instead of fiery eye lights, he was met with the unsettling visage of a bandaged face. 

What color had his eyes been? Crimson, like his brother’s? Maybe the beautiful blue of his own magic? Or a pristine white, as theirs had been before…

Well. Before.

“ARE YOU SURE?” he asked, his voice rough and breathless. A last, desperate attempt at decency. Sans’ final chance at an escape from whatever this was becoming.

Something seeped out from under the damp cloth covering Sans’ eyes. For a moment Papyrus thought the magic bleeding from his injury had soaked through the bandages again. But no, not magic.

Tears.

“yes. please,” Sans whispered back. 

With silent assent Papyrus sank down to the bed with Sans, his one arm still curled around Sans’ back for support. Once most of Sans’ weight was settled, Papyrus brought his other hand up to wipe the tears from Sans’ face as he once again kissed him, more slowly, more deeply this time, lingering on the familiar-but-not taste of him. All of Papyrus’ senses were tuned into the Sans, the feel of him, the scent of him, the muffled noise Sans made into their kiss that sent a thrill through Papyrus’ magic.

“hhffuck,” Sans rasped, low and husky as Papyrus moved from his mouth to his neck. “yes, there.” 

Encouraged, Papyrus slipped his hand up Sans’ shirt, drawing his sharp fingertips across Sans’ ribs with deliberate, gentle precision as he nibbled, licked and sucked at the other monster’s neck. Sans’ body pressed into him, arching into the touch, desperate for more. 

Well, Papyrus was more than willing to give it to him. 

“GOOD BOY,” he husked. “NOW, RAISE YOUR ARMS FOR ME.” 

This would usually be his brother’s moment to rebel, to fight back if he wanted a rougher, more forceful encounter. This Sans, however, responded meekly, raising his arms above his head in an alluring show of obedience, his face flushed, his expression shy, head turned to the side as though to look away. Papyrus took a few moments to admire the scene as he stripped off first his own shirt before doing the same for Sans, the thin fabric sliding up and over his head easily. 

His soul racing, Papyrus leaned back in for a third kiss, his hands wandering down along Sans’ ribs until he reached their lower edge, where he allowed his hand to fall naturally down to Sans’ spine. As they explored each others’ mouths, Papyrus could feel Sans’ hands come up to press against his chest, then wander, playing idly along each rib. When his fingers found the first scar, similar to when he had found the one on Papyrus’ face, he jerked back with an indrawn breath. Papyrus froze, withdrawing, suddenly worried. 

“WHAT IS IT?”

There was a long pause, and Papyrus could see that Sans was trembling. Stars, he had frightened him… or hurt him or… Conflicted and unable to trust his own desires, Papyrus was on the verge of getting up and leaving with the excuse that he had left the stove on, or that he heard the cat getting into something or that he had not subdued the vegetables enough for tomorrow’s dinner… anything really. 

“no. it’s nothing. i’m ok.”

Then Sans’ hands were on him again, cautious at first, lingering and toying almost idly along Papyrus’ various scars, chips and knicks, searching them out and feeling them with deft and curious fingertips. The gentle, grazing touches quickly had Papyrus breathing harder, his magic inflamed by Sans’ explorations. Returning the favor, Papyrus stroked along Sans’ spine, making him huff and gasp as his bones heated up under Papyrus’ touch. 

“…very ok. th-that’s good, Pap. you’re so good.”

There it was, that unfamiliar praise again, filling Papyrus with a warmth that practically had him purring, his magic filling out and forming with a needy ache in his pants. 

Sans’ knee came up, pressing against Papyrus’ bulge, the friction causing him to groan low in his throat. 

In response, Sans shifted his leg, grinding it along Papyrus’ erection with more confidence, a hazy smile across his face. 

“having a bit of a hard time there, buddy? need some help?” he husked, then gasped as Papyrus gripped his spine with just enough pressure to get his attention. 

“YOU TALK TOO MUCH,” Papyrus grumbled, pricking lightly at the soft discs between Sans’ vertebrae with the tips of his claws. The mewl of pleasure it got out of Sans was especially pleasing, and Papyrus could feel the shiver that ran along the other monster’s body. 

“heh. you gonna do something—ngmmm~~”

Not so different after all. Well, he knew what to do about that mouth. Papyrus caught Sans in another kiss, stifling his attempt at provoking him while his hand slid down the front of Sans’ pants, which had their own prominent bulge. His fingers brushed along Sans’ cock, teasing. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smirk as Sans’ hips strained up towards the touch. He paused just long enough for Sans to whine with desperation before he relented and took hold of it, stroking it slowly.

“mmmggaaaah!~” Sans finished as Papyrus broke away, and Papyrus took a moment to admire his flushed face and panting breaths, continuing to move his hand, languid and slow, as though he had all the time in the world, like his own magic wasn’t aching with need. As though he weren’t already imagining what it would feel like to sink into Sans’ hot, waiting magic. What other delightful noises would he make?

He was going to find out, but he wanted to make sure to savor every moment of this, so there was no rush. 

“WHAT WAS THAT SANS?” Papyrus asked, a wicked grin spreading across his sharp teeth. Fuck, his reactions were so good, his body so willing, he could almost imagine that he was… that he was…

Papyrus pushed the annoying thought from his head, ignoring it and immersing himself in the moment… this feeling of satisfaction and pleasure in pulling every sound he could from the monster under him. 

He could feel Sans’ hips beginning to twitch and buck into his hand, his cock throbbing in his grip. 

“i’m cl—ohhhse~” Sans managed, his hands clutching at the sheets as his body writhed.

Leaning down, Papyrus murmured into Sans’ ear.

“OH? THEN WHY DON’T YOU COME FOR ME, SANS?”

Sans’ loud, gasping cry was wrung out of him along with his cum as he climaxed, body tensing as repeated spurts of hot magic spilled out over Papyrus’ hand. He continued to stroke Sans throughout the entirety of his orgasm, spreading the slick liquid as Sans’ hips stuttered and then stopped. 

“HMMMMM, SO GOOD…” Papyrus murmured, dipping back in for another slow, languid kiss, enjoying the warm press of Sans’ body, lax with the afterglow of his orgasm. He pulled away, and Sans’ tongue was drawn out through parted teeth. But Papyrus was not quite done with him yet. Shifting so that Sans was resting with his back against Papyrus’ front, he curled one arm under and around him and presented the fingers of his other hand, still slick with come, before Sans’ face. In one graceful motion, he pressed them gently to his tounge.

”HERE. TASTE”. 

With a soft groan, Sans’ tongue lapped and then curled around Papyrus’ fingers, sampling the taste of himself before drawing them into his mouth, where he suckled on them slowly and deliberately, as though he himself were savoring them. 

Removing his fingers, Papyrus took a moment to slide Sans’ pants the rest of the way off of him. Stars, he was amazing; naked, vulnerable, and half wrecked as he was. 

Growling, he kicked off his own pants, finally freeing his cock into the open. It bobbed, fully hard, and he heard Sans hum in appreciation as its length pressed into him from behind. Once more he demanded Sans’ full attention with a kiss, their tongues twining together as he brought his slicked hand down, past Sans’ tail bone to gently press one of his fingers into the heated magic still pooled in his pelvic inlet. Sans broke their kiss with a wet gasp, and Papyrus would have paused (Was it too much? Too fast?) if Sans hadn’t pressed his hips back, urging him to continue. 

“please, Papyrus… more.”

He was more than willing to oblige.

The room quickly filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and the soft rustling of fabric, punctuated by Sans’ groans, whimpers, and gasps as Papyrus worked him open. Bringing his other hand up to tilt back Sans head for easier access, Papyrus made sure to lather plenty of attention on his shoulders, neck, and mouth as his fingers continued to move, pumping and scissoring them in Sans’ receptive magic. The noises he made as Papyrus nibbled and sucked at his vertebrae were intoxicating, and he could tell by the way the walls of Sans’ magic squeezed at his fingers, sucking them in, that he was enjoying himself as well.

“HMMM… SO READY FOR ME…” he murmured next to Sans’ skull, and the way he trembled against him in response told him all he needed to know. He removed his fingers from Sans’ magic. “LOOK AT YOU, GETTING HARD AGAIN SO SOON.” 

To punctuate his statement, Papyrus reached around to lightly stroke Sans’ stiffening cock, pressing his own erection against Sans’ coalesced magic, gliding along his entrance. The pleasurable friction was maddening in the best way, and Papyrus fought his baser instincts, choosing instead to draw the moment out. When Sans began to squirm as though conflicted on whether to buck into Papyrus’ touch or grind back into him, Papyrus stopped, removing his hand from Sans’ dick, bringing it to his hip to still his movements. 

Sans whined, and Papyrus’ cock twitched at the need he heard there. 

Releasing a shuddering breath at the side of Sans’ skull, Papyrus spoke, his voice thick and raspy, dripping with restrained desire. He breathed in Sans’ smell, so familiar and warm.

It was as though he had his brother back again. 

“ARE YOU READY TO TAKE MY COCK, SANS?” All Sans could utter was a throaty groan, but Papyrus felt him nod his head, one of the Sans’ hands reaching back to grab at him. Papyrus smirked, nuzzling Sans’ skull. “ALWAYS SO GOOD FOR ME.” 

Taking himself in hand, Papyrus lined up and pressed in, sinking slowly into the slick, welcoming heat of Sans’ magic, feeling it take his cock in inch by slow inch.

“oooohhh fuck, Papyrus.” Sans groaned, gripping Papyrus harder while clutching at the sheets with his other hand. “yes! fill me up. i need you.”

Papyrus obliged, burying himself fully in Sans’ magic. Still he held back, pressed against Sans without moving, relishing the feel of his magic pulsing around him, in sync with the beat of their souls as Papyrus stole another kiss, their tongues tangling together feverishly for a long moment before they parted again. Something glistened on Sans’ cheeks, twin trails below the bandage on his eyes. 

More tears? Had Papyrus hurt him? Was he regretting this? 

“SANS…”

The hesitation must have shown in his voice, because Sans interrupted him.

“i’m fine, Pap,” he gasped between shuddering breaths. “please. don’t stop.”

So he didn’t. Reaching down to grab Sans’ femur, lifting his leg and giving himself a better angle, Papyrus began to roll his hips, starting with short, shallow thrusts and working towards a steady, regular rhythm as Sans’ body gave way to him. 

Sans moaned, low and long, clutching at Papyrus as he drove into him. Stars, he felt so good. The wet heat inside him, the warm pressure of his body arching back into him, his expression as Papyrus fucked him, all caused a maelstrom of emotion to churn up within him. Tender, protective, lustful, all tinged with a bittersweet ache buried deep within his soul, forced down over months of determination, denial, and overwork. 

“fuck. yes. right there, Papy… harder!”

Papy. How many times had Papyrus longed for the soft affection of that familiar nickname, unheard since he came out of stripes. Not Papyrus, not ‘Boss’, but Pap… Papy… Rus… something that gave a hint of his brother’s feelings for him. Something that made him realize the extent of his brother’s devotion before… before he…

Well. Before.

Hearing that name uttered by this stranger, who both was and wasn’t his brother, was heady and intoxicating. An almost-illusion that he could just barely justify in the heat of the moment as something they both fully, openly desired. The press of their bodies in the dark, the welcoming, warm slickness of Sans’ magic as it seemed to draw Papyrus in ever deeper, all leading to the crest of pleasure mounting upon itself till it overwhelmed him in its intensity. 

All time seemed to slow as his pace became faster, his senses drowned with the smell of sex, his own low grunts paired with Sans moaning and pleading for more as his passage fluttered sweetly around Papyrus’ cock. The whole time Papyrus drew him closer, holding Sans to him as though he were afraid to let go of him. 

(And maybe he was.)

“SANS… I CAN’T… I…” he panted, feeling the tension within him reach its peak.

“s-same. pap… please…” Sans’ voice was a low whine, his voice thick, his hands grasping at Papyrus in desperation.

A few more thrusts and Sans came, crying out as he tensed in Papyrus’ arms. Papyrus managed to hold on for a few more moments, savoring each sweet squeeze around his cock, riding Sans through his orgasm. Then with a final satisfied groan, Papyrus also came, the sharp spike of pleasure rattling his bones as he filled Sans up with his magic. 

The haze of their orgasms cleared slowly, both of them still pressed together, limp, their ribs heaving as they tried to catch their breath, their limbs heavy and relaxed. Unsure of what to say in the moment, Papyrus merely stared at the wall, his arms still loosely wrapped around Sans as his mind floated, not focusing on any particular train of thought as Sans’ breathing slowed and evened out into the peaceful rhythm of sleep. 

Papyrus considered how slight Sans’ weight was in his arms. He seemed so fragile, helpless without his sight, and yet Papyrus suspected that, like his own brother, this monster’s appearances were deceiving. After all, he had survived the loss of his own brother and whatever disaster had sent him tumbling into this violent hellscape Papyrus lived in. 

So what should they do now? Every moment he remained here Papyrus felt as though his sanity… and his soul… were cracking just a little bit more. He couldn’t just force him to leave, especially after… whatever the fuck this was. Papyrus wasn’t some second rate john booting his least favorite whore out onto the streets. He had more pride in himself than that. This was no place for a monster who wasn’t used to surviving while surrounded by violence, hate, and LV. And he might as well admit it. This was SANS. Not his Sans maybe, but still Sans, nontheless. 

His train of thought was broken as Sans shifted restlessly in his arms, his lax expression tensing, then twitching with emotion. More tears seeped out from under his bandages, trickling down his face as he muttered in his sleep. 

“Papyrus… ‘m sorry… ‘s my fault… couldn’t protect… sorry… i can’t…” his sentence trailed off, his voice cracking before it descended into unintelligible mumbling. His movements were becoming more frantic as the nightmare tried to drag him under.

Papyrus’ chest suddenly felt tight, unwanted tears pricking at the corners of his eye sockets. He pulled Sans in, holding him just a bit tighter. Without stopping to consider his actions, he whispered, low and soft, into Sans’ ear. 

“IT IS ALRIGHT, BROTHER. THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS HERE.”

Sans’ agitated movements lessened, then stilled entirely as he turned over in Papyrus’ arms and snuggled in closer. His head tilted up toward Papyrus for a moment so that, if not for the bandages, they’d be eye to eye. 

“oh… hey Pap…” he mumbled, his voice thick and drowsy “man, it’s really dark tonight.”

Papyrus ignored the pain in his chest.

“…YES. IT IS.”

“i didn’t… wake you up, did i?”

“NO. YOU DIDN’T.”

“hmmm… thas’ good.” Sans yawned loudly before returning his head to the pillow. “goin’ back to sleep now. g’night Pap. love you.”

“… YOU TOO, SANS.”

It was a long time before Papyrus fell asleep that night.


End file.
